


A Bath Gone Wrong

by VivatMusa



Category: The Last Story
Genre: Humor, Teasing, baths
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-27
Updated: 2015-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-15 10:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3444593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VivatMusa/pseuds/VivatMusa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yurick has just suffered through being dragged by a skeleton, stuck in a coffin, and chased by a soul-sucking vampire. Now, all he wants is to unwind with a hot, relaxing bath. Unfortunately, his friends have other ideas in mind. Takes place after Chapter 20: The Haunted Mansion. Some mild swearing included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bath Gone Wrong

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own The Last Story or any of its characters.

Yurick would usually stay at the back of the mercenary's group as they traveled from mission to mission, both for tactical and personal reasons. But this time the mage was walking—charging, more like it—in front of the party. Dagran, Zael, and Lowell were practically running to keep up with him.

The mage rammed his way through Lazulis Island, shoving past crowds of people. Instead of admiring the island's renowned plazas, Yurick saw only the ominous alleyways that threw his senses on high alert. The faster he got to Ariela's Tavern, the better.

"Yurick, slow down, dammit!" Dagran shouted after him, out of breath. "We're already exhausted and we don't need to chase after you, too!"

Ignoring this, Yurick charged on until at last the familiar tavern came into view. He marched up the steps and shoved open the door. The reek of alcohol and musty air tackled him, sticking to his skin like glue. The uproar from the crowd of patrons set his teeth on edge…more than usual, that is. Somebody slammed a tankard onto a table, and Yurick jumped. He scowled in annoyance.

Without realizing it, his eyes scanned the tavern for Mirania—her quiet, soothing presence always calmed him down—but one glance told him the healer wasn't there. She was probably outside feeding the birds or something just as silly.

Another familiar face popped out from the crowd. Unfortunately, it was one he didn't want to see. Syrenne was sitting at a table with her fingers wrapped tightly around a tankard, as per usual. When she saw him, she brandished her tankard, spilling some drink on a nearby patron. "Oy, Yurick!" she howled over the noise. "How'd the mission go?"

Yurick stormed past her, not giving the warrior a second glance before stomping up the stairs. He didn't look back when he retorted, "Ask Horace."

An image of the reedy archeologist rose up in his mind. Couldn't mention that we were walking into a bloody cursed mansion, Yurick brooded. He was halfway up the staircase when he heard the tavern's door creak open before shutting again. Shuffling footsteps followed the noise. The mage was hidden from view when he paused on the step, his hand resting on the rail.

A moment later, Yurick could pick out Syrenne's disgruntled voice. "What's his problem?" The mage had a funny feeling of whom she was referring to.

Lowell's drawl answered, "We had a go at a man-eating house. The lad was 'bout ready to piss his pants by the end of it."

"Precious…" Her laughter was clear even over the tavern's racket.

The mage would've heard Dagran ordering the two to knock it off, but he did not stay long enough to listen. Yurick didn't waste another second as he continued up the staircase, putting unnecessary force in each step he took. It wasn't long before he was in the room the male mercenaries were renting. He slammed the door behind him, shutting out the din from downstairs. Yurick let out a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding.

Unfortunately, his tense muscles refused to relax.

With his hand still resting on the doorknob, Yurick eyed the space beneath the rows of beds. Suddenly the shadows appeared threatening… It was like he was a child again, still frightened of the monsters that would gobble him up if he was naughty. "You're being childish," Yurick chided himself. Even so, the thought of something lurking underneath the beds made his stomach crawl like a bunch of worms.

The mage knew he wouldn't get any peace of mind otherwise, so he stooped to his hands and knees and checked under each bed, muttering about the irrationality of it the whole time. Of course, he first made sure the door was firmly closed behind him.

Finding nothing but dust bunnies (and some salacious papers under Lowell's bed), Yurick stood up. "See?" he muttered to himself, swiping some dirt off his clothing. "Nothing's going to jump out and eat you, so stop being ridiculous."

With that, he pushed the bathing room's door open and stepped inside. The room was empty except for a rack of towels and a wide, square bath set into the floor. A small bottle—a complimentary gift from the tavern—rested on top of the towels. Yurick grabbed the bottle, flipped the lid, and poured a few drops of liquid into the water. The pleasing scent of lavender and mint drifted from the bath. Taking a deep breath, Yurick let the fragrances wash over him and unknot his tense shoulders. The other mercenaries would laugh at him for indulging in such a feminine luxury, but they could go to hell for all he cared.

Yurick shrugged off his jacket and tossed it to the floor. However, he hesitated at the water's edge. While Ariela's Tavern was of a higher caliber than most he'd been to, the place never heated the baths. You either had to heat the water yourself or suffer the icy consequences. Right now, after what happened at that bloody mansion, the luxury of warmth was a must.

With a sigh, the mage closed his eyes and brought his hands together. He pushed all thoughts away until his mind was a blank slate, prepared to accept the upcoming magic. It wasn't long before his feet lifted a few inches from the ground, but the mage didn't notice that; he was too busy focusing on the spark of warmth nestled between his palms. It felt like a butterfly; every flutter of its wings tickled his skin.

Creak!

Yurick's concentration shifted at the intrusion. Was somebody coming upstairs?

No. The mage shoved the thought away. Concentrate.

The pulsing ember swelled to the size of a thimble. A wisp of smoke rose from his fingertips. The goal wasn't to summon a full grown fireball, of course, like he would for a battle; it simply had to be big enough to warm his bath. A couple more seconds and it should be fin—

Tap-tap-tap!

Only years of experience kept Yurick from opening his eyes. While keeping his mind focused, he strained his hearing to place the noise. Not a moment had passed before the tapping came again. It sounded hollow, like two sticks striking one another.

Two sticks…

…Or two bones.

A chill crept down Yurick's spine. Don't be absurd, he thought. There's nothing to be afraid of. Despite those words, the ember spurted into a flame as it fed off his emotions.

Deciding to cut the spell short (for no particular reason, of course), Yurick opened his eyes; the chain that connected his mind to the supernatural broke in a clean swipe. He was just about to toss the fireball into the water when—

BANG!

The door was thrown against the wall and Yurick whirled around, his heart racing a mile per minute. Towering in front of the doorway was a skeleton—the same one the mercenaries had just fought at the man-eating mansion. Wide-eyed, Yurick stared at the pair of black, bottomless pits. His blood ran cold. All he could hear was the skeleton's snap of bones whenever it moved and the chattering of its decaying teeth, as if jeering at him.

In a split second, it charged at Yurick!

The mage didn't think as he screamed in terror, flinging his fireball at the menace. The force of the action unbalanced Yurick and he slipped backwards, plummeting into the water with a loud, inelegant splash. God, that's freezing! Yurick cursed, yearning for breath. When his silver head broke through the surface, he could a torrent of swearing from the skeleton.

But…skeletons don't talk…

Still wading in the bath, Yurick struggled to blink the droplets of water from his eyelashes so he could see the skeleton. The corpse was crumpled against the corner of the room. Its ratty clothing and bones were singed from the fireball the mage had thrown at it. Jerky movements came from underneath the carcass, like something was fighting to get freed. Yurick watched with astonishment as the bones were shoved aside to reveal a blonde, breathing man. When the skeleton hit the ground, its bones disintegrated into a dusty pile; the skull rolled a few times before coming to a stop. With a focused eye, it was clear the structure was made from nothing more than cheap stage props—not a decaying corpse.

"Lowell?" Yurick stuttered, daring to believe his eyes.

"Who d'ya think, you big lug?" growled the blonde as he rubbed his forehead, wincing. Lowell's face broke into horror when his fingers ran through his singed hair. "Ah, you've gone and done it now! How am I supposed to flirt with ladies like this?" Yup, it was Lowell.

Surprise was replaced by rage as Yurick climbed out of the bath, shaking from both anger and cold. His fists were clenched and rigid by his side when he towered over the blonde, shooting him the most hatred-filled glare he could muster. Lowell didn't seem panicked, however, and that only fueled the fire mage's fury. Through gritted teeth, Yurick snarled, "Why in hell's name would you sneak up on me like that?! Were you born an idiot, or has chasing too many skirts made you one? If you don't get out of here right now, I'm going to—"

"Whoa!"

The mage's words stuttered to a stop when he turned to the newcomer. Syrenne stood frozen at the doorway, clearly taken aback. The warrior's blue eyes were the size of saucers as she registered the scene.

Yurick's rush of anger dwindled away to form a mixture of shock and embarrassment. Did anybody know how to knock before entering a private bathing room? Lowell, on the other hand, looked characteristically unruffled when he turned his lazy gaze on her.

"Fancy meeting you here," he drawled, as if it was absolutely normal for a woman to be in a men's bathing room. "Hoping to get a peek, eh? Wouldn't blame you if you were."

Instantly her surprise morphed into irritation. "Don't flatter yourself," Syrenne retorted, shooting him a scowl. Then her gaze turned to Yurick. The mage felt the urge to dive underwater again. The cold wasn't that bad, he decided. The bath was certainly better than Syrenne's piercing blue eyes, which raised pinpricks of ice on his skin as she raked her gaze unabashedly up and down his naked chest.

"You, on the other hand, have been holding out on us," commented Syrenne, who was looking at the mage like she was trying to decide which beer to drink first. "Without that damn jacket on, you look completely different! I never would've thought that petite frame of yours could pack so much muscle. The whole 'just-came-out-of-the-bath-dripping-wet' look works for you, too."

A red, clearly visible on Yurick's pale skin, burned its way over his face and down his neck. He didn't know which he was more embarrassed about: the fact that a woman had just seen him half-naked, or the fact the same woman had just called him petite. PETITE!

"W-what are you even doing here?!" Though he tried to inject as much anger in his tone as possible, his voice still cracked at the end of the sentence, which made him blush (ahem, darken) even further.

A smirk played on Syrenne's lips, her eyes twinkling with mirth. Of course she would be enjoying his humiliation… "We heard a racket up here and Ariela started to get worried," Syrenne informed, still looking like she was having the time of her life. "She asked Dagran to see what the noise was all about, but he was too busy cleaning that bloody sword of his, so he sent me instead. Lazy oaf, he is..."

"Why not Zael?" asked Lowell, although he didn't seem bothered that Syrenne was there instead.

"Poor lad's too busy lusting over Calista."

Turning her head, Syrenne noticed what was left of the skeleton for the first time. She raised an eyebrow at the scattered bones, more out curiosity than surprise. "I see you men are into some rather naughty stuff during bath time."

Lowell gave an unconcerned shrug. "Just playing a prank on Yurick, here, that's all."

The said fire mage looked incredulously at the mercenaries. "Am I the only one with any sense?" he snapped, his temper returning. "GET OUT!"

Neither of the two mercenaries took any notice at the outburst. They merely glanced at each other, indifferent. Then, without warning, Lowell sniffed the air with a puzzled expression. "Am I the only one who smells that god-awful stench?"

As if guided by a mysterious force, his eyes were drawn to the bottle still sitting on the towel rack. "Ah." A knowing smirk crept onto his face. "Still into perfume, are you, Yurick?"

Syrenne gave an unladylike snort while Yurick's body turned pink. The thought of jumping into the bath and staying underwater for an hour or two sounded more and more appealing by the second.


End file.
